


For Research

by orochiis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Golden Deer spoilers, I stole all their support dialogue and used that im sorry, Slow Burn, implied Claude/Hilda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orochiis/pseuds/orochiis
Summary: “Time and… effort?” Marianne asks, remembering his words from earlier in the week. “What does that mean?”“It lets me be close to you, right?” Linhardt responds without missing a beat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Love these two! Underrated ship! Stan LinMari!
> 
> I was very dumb when playing three houses because I was like haha they'd be cute together! I like to think Linhardt teaches her to nap!! and now I would die for both of them

The Golden Deer classroom is always a rowdy place, and Marianne decides within a few hours of teaching that she’s not entirely comfortable with her loud classmates. Sure, they’re nice enough people, but she finds them slightly overbearing. So she sits in the corner, and doesn’t make a sound as their new professor lectures the class.

It doesn’t take her long to come out of her shell. Hilda befriends her very quickly, and she finds herself smiling in the girl’s presence more often than not. Claude too makes an effort to befriend her, as well as Lysithea. The more cynical part of her believes that this is purely because they are the children of the other prominent noble houses of the Alliance. Perhaps their parents instructed them to befriend her, as well as each other. But when Hilda drags her into town, or Lorenz offers to help her with the horses, she wonders if their interest in her is in fact genuine.

The new professor makes a point to become friends with her too. Even if Byleth is their teacher, she’s only a few years older than her class, and Marianne finds herself warming up to Byleth very quickly. The new teacher is also very keen on changing up the class structure- and it’s not long before the Golden Deer loses its status as a class solely for those from the Leicester Alliance.

First is Sylvain, who Hilda tells Marianne practically begged the professor to join the class. From what she’s heard about Sylvain, Marianne suspects that there is a lot more to do with Byleth’s looks and less to do with her teaching methods. Felix is hot on his heels, and Marianne deduces that this time it _is_ for the way the professor teaches- Felix always asks her to spar after class.

Bernadetta from the Black Eagles is next, and she joins Marianne at the back of the classroom. The purple haired girl is shy, and always runs off as soon as class is over, so Marianne never gets a chance to talk to her. It must have taken a lot of coaxing on Byleth’s part to make friends with such a shy girl.

The next to arrive, a month later, are Linhardt and Ferdinand. The latter she has spoken to a number of times- he too tends to the horses, and Marianne finds herself slipping into an easy friendship with the noble, despite being so opposite in terms of personality. Linhardt, however, sleeps through every class, and is often left in the classroom until long after the session is over.

Marianne finds herself losing track of all the new students after that- it’s only when she overhears a conversation between Byleth and Seteth that she realises the other classes only have two people each in them, and she has to suppress a giggle at how dedicated Byleth has become. Now that she thinks on it, Byleth has always been keen to eat dinner with her students, or take choir practice, even though Marianne has heard her sing, and is certain that the goddess has not gifted the professor with the gift of music.

She’s thankful, though, for the new friends she’s made at Garreg Mach, and sends a letter home to her adoptive father telling him as much. They may not be the closest, but Marianne still feels that she owes him the occasional letter. The response comes quickly, and Marianne is relieved to read nothing out of the ordinary.

* * *

It’s rare that the professor sets homework- usually, she just encourages the students to do their own independent studying, which she checks up on at the end of the week. But with exams coming up soon for all students of the Officers Academy, Byleth passed out papers with questions on them that Marianne isn’t sure the teacher knows the answers to. Hilda complains loudly about the work, as she never does any work outside of class unless Claude makes her. Taking pity on her friend, Marianne offers to help her do the work.

This promise brings her to the library, fully intending to sit down and read some books in order to get through the work before the end of the day. She had other promises to uphold after all- she had already agreed with Ferdinand to help bathe the horses, and had been asked by Mercedes to polish the plaques on the saint statues. The library is quiet today, aside from Linhardt, who looks up from his book when she enters the room.

“Oh, Linhardt,” she mumbles, closing the door behind her. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to bother you.” She makes her way around some of the shelves, quickly locating the books she needs to complete her work,

“Ah, Marianne.” He turns around in his chair to face her as she leaves her parchments on the desk closest to the door. “You’re no bother at all.” He smiles at her with ease, and she realises that this is the first time they’ve ever properly spoken, other than a few passed comments on the battlefield. “In fact,” Linhardt continues, “You’ve arrived at precisely the right time.”

“Huh? The right time… for what?”

“You have a Crest, don’t you?” He asks bluntly, causing Marianne to drop her quill. How did he know? She had made sure to be very careful about not giving it away when they discussed Crests in class, and she was certain that was one of the few lectures Linhardt paid attention to. So he must have seen it activate on the battlefield, when she had no control over it.

“I-I don’t… what are you saying?” She defends, but this only makes his smile grow bigger. He moves from his seat a few tables away to the one opposite her, bringing the heavy book he was reading with him.

“If you hide it, that just makes it more interesting. You do have one.”

“I, um…” Well, there was no point in hiding it now. Linhardt clearly knew- this wasn’t just speculation, and from glancing down at the book in front of him, he even knows what Crest she bears. “Please don’t tell anyone. You can’t tell anyone I have a Crest. If people find out, then…” She’s practically begging at this point- the thought of her fellow classmates finding out her secret, and the judgement she’d receive… well, that was almost too much to bear.

“What?”

“Please!” She repeats, because Linhardt very clearly does not understand the weight of this issue. “My adoptive father told me to keep it a secret! And I personally don’t want it known!”

“Who said I intended to tell anyone? Your secret is safe with me.” His smile changes- from that smug smile with the insistence that he is right to something softer that immediately makes her feel at ease. A false sense of security, she rues later, for when he points at the book, she feels her face go white. “I find it fascinating that you carry the Crest of the Erased Hero-“

“Please! Stop! Don’t say another word!” Just hearing those words make her feel sick to her stomach. There is great shame in her Crest- why could she not have been born with a Crest of one of the saints? Or even better, without a Crest at all? The Goddess must really hate her, even more so because she put her in this situation with Linhardt. Marianne clears her throat.

“No one should know about or even speak of my Crest. Nothing good comes of it. It’s even the reason my parents disappeared. This crest only brings bad luck to anyone who comes near me. Even you, Linhardt. You have to stay away.” Linhardt raises an eyebrow at her outburst, glancing back at his book for a moment.

“Bad luck generated by a Crest? Now that would be a discovery well worth making. What manner of bad luck do you suppose might beset me?” He leans across the table a bit, as if trying to see her Crest reflected within her eyes.

“No! You shouldn’t be so cavalier about something you couldn’t possibly understand!” She rises from her seat, gathering her papers and the book she came in for. “I- I have to go.”

And Marianne rushes out of the library, homework the last thing on her mind.

* * *

The conversation with Linhardt eventually leaves her mind. It seems like he has in fact kept his word- no one has treated her any differently since that evening in the library. Aside from Linhardt himself, that is, who asks Byleth if he can swap seats with Bernadetta. The professor allows such a move, as she really doesn’t care what goes on in her class. Assuming Linhardt just wants to nap where no one can see him, she authorises the move.

Surprisingly, he rarely talks to Marianne, aside from about the work that they’re supposed to be undertaking. This is, of course, not something to complain about, especially since after a month or so of class together and the occasional dinner invitation with himself and Byleth, Marianne thinks that she’s made another friend.

Byleth is often fond of getting her students to work together on school tasks so they also work together better on the battlefield. She’s said as much multiple times, and introduces group tasks every month for her students. Marianne has managed to get through five months in the Officer’s Academy without being allotted a group task, so when Byleth approaches her desk on the first Monday of the Horsebow Moon, Marianne feels butterflies land in her stomach.

“Marianne, would you be at all interested in riding a horse into battle?”

“Oh, I… hadn’t given it much thought…”

“I know you like horses, and have a gift for animals. Perhaps this would be a good move for you?”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you, professor.”

“In the meantime, I’d like to place you on stable duty this month with Linhardt. He has expressed interest in becoming a Holy Knight in the future, and I thought it would be a good idea to place him with someone with some knowledge in the area already. Does that sound good?” Byleth’s expression may not change throughout what she says, but her voice is soft- something that Marianne’s ear as attuned to over the past months. She glances at Linhardt, and sees that same smile he gave her in the library when he promised to keep her secret.

“Y-yes. I understand.”

“You only have to partake on Saturday morning, but feel free to go any other time you want as well. And report to me in the afternoon, okay?”

Byleth disappears quickly, the bell going off to signal the end of lessons for the day. Marianne collects her things, and dreads the thought of having another one on one encounter with Linhardt. He stops her before she can leave the classroom.

“Me and Marianne? Well, this should save both time and effort.”

She gives a forced half laugh before catching up with Hilda.

Somehow, he makes it to the stables before her on Saturday morning, though he is leaning against the wall with his arms folded and eyes shut. She’s not sure whether she should wake him or not, so Marianne hovers in the stable door. Five minutes pass, and he doesn’t open his eyes, so she decides to take action.

“Um…” she begins, and before she can finish forming a sentence, he opens his eyes.

“I wondered how long you would stand there before you said anything,” he says with a yawn. “I might have actually dozed off if you’d waited much longer.”

Marianne sighs- of course he’s trying to be funny again. It’s very exhausting being friends with him, she thinks. He’s a strange mix of joking and serious at all times, and it’s hard to get a read on how he’s really feeling. He’s very focussed on his studies of Crestology- so much so that he has his notebook with him now, and is jotting things down even while she’s explaining things to him. Despite being a noble, he looks like he’s never ridden a horse in his life, leaving Marianne to wonder if they even had horses in the Adrestian Empire.

Once his impromptu riding lesson is over, and all the horses have been mucked out and fed, Marianne shows Linhardt Dorte, her favourite of the monasteries horses. She brushes his mane, while Linhardt simply watches on, their allotted time together not quite finished.

“Time and… effort?” Marianne asks, remembering his words from earlier in the week. “What does that mean?”

“It lets me be close to you, right?” Linhardt responds without missing a beat. Marianne pauses, brush halfway down Dorte’s mane. The horse whinnies in response, and she continues in her task, glancing up at Linhardt. To her surprise, she can see that his cheeks are dusted pink, clearly embarrassed at what he said. “Ah, I just realized how that sounds. Please, don’t take it the wrong way.”

“I won’t. I still don’t understand, though,” she murmurs, leading Dorte back to his stall. “Why do you want to be close to me?”

“Marianne, since our conversation in the library, I’ve been studying you, quite intently. Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I’ve been studying your Crest.”

“I thought we agreed not to talk about that…”

“No, I just said I wouldn’t tell anyone. I know you don’t want me interfering, and I understand, but you’re just so _fascinating_.” There’s that look on his face again, Marianne thinks, the one that makes her heart race just a little bit faster. “I haven’t experienced any bad luck since I found out about your Crest, Marianne. Or since we became friends.”

“You think we’re friends?” She asks, a little surprised that he would voice that thought aloud.

“Why, of course. Would you not say the same?”

“No, I would.” And then she smiles, and she doesn’t notice his reaction at all.

* * *

As the year moves on into the autumn, Marianne finds herself spending more time in the greenhouse, helping with the harvest. This isn’t something she’s particularly used to, but finds it an enjoyable experience learning something new. There’s not a lot to do- most of the supplies for the monastery come from outside, but she spends time with some of the other students that she wouldn’t speak to, something that she knows is valuable experience. Perhaps she will even be able to call some of them friends as well.

One afternoon, she takes over gardening duties from Annette, who has come down with a cold. She is sure that Annette would do the same for her, so Marianne offers to help the mage. The greenhouse keeper tells her what needs doing, and Marianne sets about checking the root vegetables that should be ready for harvest. If she gets this done in time, perhaps they’ll be used to dinner tonight- then her efforts will be of use to more than Annette.

“Ah, Marianne,” comes a voice from behind her, one that’s all too familiar. She turns to see Linhardt hovering behind her. She hadn’t realised he was on gardening duty today as well- but supposes it can’t hurt to have some help. “Harvesting the crops?”

“Oh! Y-yes, Linhardt. Um… I’ve found which vegetables are ripe and ready, but would you mind picking them for me?” Her request is sincere, but he merely raises his eyebrows at her. She waits, patiently, before he sighs.

“Ah, see, you’ve mistaken me for someone who sticks his hands in the dirt.”

“I’m just afraid that if I touch them, well…”

“Oh, I see. You’re afraid that everyone who eats them will suffer bad luck?” He asks, and she drops her gaze back to the vegetables.

“Yes. It’s true. I wouldn’t want anybody to suffer because of me.” Even if they are not used for dinner, Marianne is well aware that some of the students and teachers enjoy cooking, and many of the supplies from the greenhouse are put away for that purpose. In some ways, it makes her terrible luck worse- she’s passing it on to someone who was just trying to enjoy their hobby.

“Marianne, that’s simply not the way the world works. You see-“ Linhardt pauses for a moment, before sighing and kneeling down beside her on the cold stone floor of the greenhouse. “Forget about it. Tell me which ones to pick.”

“Thank you so much, Linhardt.” She smiles, genuinely, and he stops for a moment, simply staring at her.

“Happy to help.”

Marianne holds the basket while Linhardt pulls the vegetables from the soil, grimacing every time more soil goes up his nails or he accidentally touches a worm. Despite this, there isn’t a word of complaint from him, and as Marianne points out which of the crops are ready, he’s smiling, the upturn of the corner of his mouth barely visible to someone that didn’t spend so much time around him. Marianne finds her heart racing again, but she ignores it, not wanting to think about what that may mean.

“I’m beat,” Linhardt complains, pulling the last parsnip out of the ground and brushing loose soil from it with a grimace. “You’ll have to carry them yourself, so take them straight in, okay?” He places it on top of the basket, and hauls himself to his feet quite gracefully, offering a hand to Marianne to help her up. Balancing the basket against her hip, she takes his hand, finding herself in much closer proximity to him than she would like.

“Um,” is the only thing she can manage to say, and she takes a step back from him, rebalancing the basket. “Okay.”

“Oh, actually, before I go,” Linhardt says through a yawn, “do you mind if I ask you a question?” He waits for Marianne to nod before continuing. “I’ve been thinking… isn’t it more the case that your Crest brings happiness rather than bad luck?”

“Happiness? I don’t understand.” There was absolutely no way his hypothesis was true. Even if it didn’t bring everyone around her bad luck, it certainly didn’t bring happiness. If that was the case, then she herself would certainly be happy, rather than miserable- the one feeling she understands to be constant in her life.

“Yes, happiness. Because your Crest is so rare. It excites my mind, and well… if not for your Crest, we might have never met, and I feel that would be a tremendous loss.” There he goes again, saying things that make her face flush red. “Backbreaking as it was, I enjoyed today. I’m quite happy right now, and it’s due entirely to your Crest.”

Perhaps that was true? Perhaps what she thought about her Crest was wrong after all. Marianne isn’t totally convinced by his words, but she supposes that there is a possibility that her Crest could bring different effects to different people. Maybe it brought happiness to other Crest bearers, and bad luck to those without Crests. But where did that leave her? All her life, her Crest had brought her nothing but misery and despair.

“I suppose so, when you put it that way. But I-“

“It’s a huge breakthrough to know that your crest causes happiness instead of bad luck. I’d love to study it thoroughly, but only if you’d agree. Really, I just want to find a way for your crest to bring you happiness too.” How did he know? Can he see through her that easily? Marianne isn’t sure that being in such close contact with him is the best idea, and if she lets him study her Crest, she’s directly going against her adoptive father’s wishes.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have to decline.”

“I understand. May I ask one more thing though? Could you please hand me one of those vegetables?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, but if you insist.”

She lifts a carrot, carefully, so as not to let her skin touch any of the other vegetables. Carefully, she hands it to Linhardt, who takes it with a smile. Their fingers brush together, just momentarily, and Marianne retracts her hand like she’s been burned.

“Thank you, Marianne. I think this looks like a very lucky vegetable.”

He bids her farewell and saunters off, carrot in hand. She’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do with it- eat it himself, perhaps, or give it to Raphael. Sometimes, Marianne considers the possibility that the Goddess is smiling down up on her- she does have many things to be thankful for here at Garreg Mach. But then she is reminded of the Crest of the Beast, and she wishes that the Goddess would just listen to her prayers and take her to her side. 

* * *

With Byleth in charge of their class, the Golden Deer class get given more and more complicated missions each month. Byleth’s father accompanies them this month, as well as some of the other Knights of Seiros. Having to heal injuries puts Marianne on the backlines, but even then, this month’s mission is the worst thing she’s ever had to witness.

As soon as she returns to the monastery, Marianne makes a beeline for the cathedral. The only thing on her mind is praying for those poor departed souls. She forgoes dinner, and ignores Hilda’s calls of concern. The cathedral is quiet at this time in the evening, with no one else to disturb her prayer. She walks right up to the statue of Saint Seiros, and begins her prayer.

“Oh Goddess, hear my prayer…”

She prays for Remire Village, and all the citizens, both dead and alive. She prays for the professor, who is undoubtedly facing questions about what really happened there. She prays for Lysithea, who had to face the terror of the Death Knight for a third time. And she prays for Tomas, who revealed his true intentions to them today. Perhaps the Goddess will take pity on him and spare his soul when the time comes.

When Marianne opens her eyes, it’s dark outside, and the Cathedral is empty, aside from Seteth, who has taken a seat in the front pew. As she moves past him, he opens his eyes, disturbed from his prayers by her movement. He opens his mouth to speak, and she pauses at the end of the pew.

“How are you faring, Marianne?”

“I’m okay, I think,” she answers honestly.

“I heard about the incident from Lady Rhea and the professor. It seems that your class went through a terrible ordeal today.”

“Y-yes. It was a difficult battle for all of us.”

“If you wish to talk about the events, my office door is open for you. Please relay my invitation to your classmates.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you.”

It is unusual, Marianne thinks, for Seteth to be so openly kind. Usually, his strict outward personality makes people rather scared of him, but a smile appears upon her face as she leaves the cathedral. She will make certain to pass on the message to her class in the morning- it truly is something that has troubled her mind, and she is certain that Seteth’s counsel will be useful for her classmates.

There’s someone on the bridge, she notes. She’s certain everyone should be asleep by now- the last bell rang out a long time ago. She’s also certain that tonight is an exception for the Golden Deer class. When she gets closer, she can see it’s Linhardt. For once, he doesn’t have a notebook, no pen in his hand, no quizzical look on his face. Instead, he merely stares out into the night over the edge of the bridge.

“G-good evening, Linhardt,” Marianne greets, though it is anything but a good evening.

“Ah, Marianne. You’re awake too, then?” His face is pale, and his voice is shaky, so unlike the Linhardt that she’s used to. Marianne remembers his aversion to blood, and remembers the gory events in Remire Village- it must have really affected him too.

“Are… are you okay? Why don’t we have tea?”

“Usually, I’d say no, but after today, I would like some company.”

In silence, the two of them head to the dining room. Unsurprisingly, there are others there too- Ignatz and Leonie, Ingrid, Sylvain and Felix, and Byleth and Claude, murmuring to each other in the corner. Linhardt takes a seat at Marianne’s request as she asks the staff for a pot of Chamomile- not her favourite, but the best option at this time of night.

“Are you…” Marianne begins, but isn’t sure where to go from there. Okay isn’t the word at all- clearly, none of them are okay.

“You know, Marianne, I’m not sure I even want to talk about it. Today was horrific, and I’d rather just… put that out of my head.”

“I understand.” She sips her tea, and waits patiently. Either he’ll talk, and she can offer a friendly ear, or he won’t, and they can go to bed and try to forget about the horrors that they witnessed.

“I don’t like taking lives,” he says eventually.

“Neither do I,” Marianne agrees. “Every time I’ve had to take a life, I feel sick.”

“Some of the soldiers under my command died in that last battle. Their lives are on my hands too. Every day, I feel that we are getting further and further from peace. No one knows who the enemy truly is, and Marianne… I’m scared.”

“So am I. While we are here to learn how to do battle, I… I don’t wish to ever have to go onto another battlefield. The lives of innocent people… well, who am I to decide whether or not they are innocent? Lady Rhea passes judgement on behalf of the Goddess. Who am I to say if she is right or not? Those people in Remire Village… could there have been a cure for them? Might we have been able to heal them?”

Her hands are shaking as she sets down her teacup, staring intently at the steam rising. These are thoughts that have been on her mind for a while, though she’s been terrified to voice them to anyone. But there are many hushes conversations happening in the dining hall tonight, and Linhardt always is willing to listen to her.

“Who knows, Marianne? It’s certainly not me, anyway.” He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. “Though my body is tired, I definitely won’t be able to sleep tonight. The people of Remire Village… they were experimented on. I, too, have been performing research. These two things are linked. Who am I to say if the research I am performing is fine? Ethically speaking, how different is researching Crests to what was going on there? Crests absolutely have the power to corrupt people and cause irreparable damage- we saw that before. How… how right is what I’m doing?”

“I don’t have the answer for that, I’m afraid. I understand that you’re not particularly religious, but perhaps taking this question to the Goddess may shed some light on the situation.”

“Perhaps you’re correct. You really are wise, Marianne.” When she looks back up to him, she’s relieved to see that easy smile has returned to his face, and his skin is looking less ghost like.

“I’m not so sure about that. But, if I may offer an observation of my own… you are kind, Linhardt. You asked me politely, if not persistently, about studying my Crest. And despite my rejection of your invitation, you have remained my friend. So… I think that is what separates you from those at Remire Village.”

“Thank you for those words. I… yes, well. I do so enjoy spending time with you, Marianne. I am glad that you don’t think I’m like Solon, or whatever his name was. Now, how about I walk you to your room?”

He pushes himself out of his seat, waiting patiently for her to do the same. She stands, and the two walk away from the dining hall and towards the dormitory. He holds the door to the second floor open for her, and waits patiently until she’s already through. There are no lights on in the first rooms- clearly, everyone is either already asleep or not in their rooms at all. Marianne unlocks her door, and takes one step inside.

“I’ve been wondering… why is your room not on this floor?”  
  
“It’s an awful lot of effort to walk up those stairs.”

* * *

The White Heron ball is a welcome distraction from the darkness of last month’s events. Rhea announced this specifically at service on the first Sunday of the month. The White Heron Cup is also this month, and Marianne is just relieved that she wasn’t picked to be her house’s representative. She joins the festivities for the cup anyway, and cheers alongside the rest of her house when Flayn wins.

Marianne finds herself on the floor oh Hilda’s dormitory on the afternoon of the ball. Lysithea and Leonie were invited as well, but she was the only one to turn up. For most of the afternoon, she’s been watching Hilda do her makeup and affix various accessories into her hair. Now Hilda is brushing her hair, insisting on doing her hair for the ball.

“It’s so annoying that we can’t dress up. Like, we’re stuck here all year round, and we don’t get a single chance to dress up!” Hilda complains- not the first time in the last few weeks she’s brought up this topic. “I am sick of this uniform! It’s just uniform, night clothes, armour. That’s it! At least your clothes for battle are cute, Marianne.”  
  
“Oh, well… I think your armour is nice too.”

“Imagine if we could wear nice dresses for the ball! What colour would you go for?”  
  
“Maybe… dark blue. My favourite dress my mother gave me was dark blue.”

“Aw, you’d look so good! I’m definitely more of a red, myself. Or maybe pink, to match my hair!”

“I think you look really nice even without fancy clothes, Hilda.” Her friends stops brushing, and Marianne turns around to look at her, worried. Instead, she sees Hilda’s eyes filled with tears, and a grin on her lips.

“You are too nice to me, Marianne. Really, the best friend a girl could ask for. When we graduate from here, you definitely have to come stay at my house for a while. I know that House Goneril is far away from Edmund territory, but…” Hilda raises her eyebrows, and Marianne smiles. The kindness of her friends truly is more than she deserves.

“I’d love to visit you, if my adoptive father permits it.”  
  
“Oh, you’re coming, with or without his permission! If I land my wyvern on your lawn, I doubt he’s going to fight back.”

The two collapse into a fit of giggles- how funny that mental image is, Marianne thinks. She would quite like it if Hilda really did land in front of her adoptive father’s home, he would quite probably die from the shock. Hilda’s words are kind, though, and Marianne can’t think of a time that she has genuinely laughed like this in a while. When Hilda has finally calmed down, she takes a section of Marianne’s hair and braids it, wrapping it across the top of her head similarly to how she wears it every day.

A knock comes to Hilda’s door, and when she calls for them to come in, there are Lysithea and Leonie, here, albeit a few hours late. Hilda’s face lights up, and the rest of Marianne’s hair is forgotten while Hilda attacks Lysithea with a hairbrush and even threatens to put some of her handmade accessories in Leonie’s hair.

The reception hall is well lit tonight, with candles on almost every surface. There is a string quartet in the corner, still tuning. Marianne has never seen any of these people before- they must be from the town, and not students or staff of monks from the monastery. She stands with Hilda, a lot closer to the centre of the room than she would like. When the music starts up, it is Dimitri and Edelgard that take to the floor first, with partners that Marianne barely recognises.

At first, she is surprised to see that Claude is also not in the middle of the floor, but then on the other side of the room, she spots him, taking the professor’s hand and leading her into the fray. By the looks of things, Byleth can dance as well as she can sing- she’s stepping on Claude’s toes, and her arms are all over the place. Hilda huffs from beside Marianne, but when Marianne looks round, she’s not sure entirely what Hilda is complaining about.

Halfway through the night, no one has asked Marianne to dance. To someone like Hilda, this may be upsetting, but for Marianne it’s more of a relief. Currently, Hilda is dancing with Claude in the slowest dance of the night, her forehead resting against Claude’s shoulder while he laughs. Hubert and Edelgard have danced together a few times as well, though Marianne suspects, based on what she has heard from former Black Eagles students, that it was probably just to show off.

There is a shuffling to her left, and when she looks up, there is Linhardt, though where he appeared from she’s not quite sure. She smiles in way of greeting, and then focusses her attention back on Claude and Hilda- now, they’re pointing at Lorenz, who has refrained from dancing thus far because the professor warned him about his behaviour with women (he since apologised to the girls in his class).

“Marianne,” Linhardt calls, drawing her attention away. “I was wondering if perhaps I could have the next dance?”

“Oh,” is the only things she can think of in response. The music is slowing, and she doesn’t have much time to think. She glances at Linhardt’s outstretched hand, and up to his face, and sees only sincerity etched on his features. She was surprised that anyone asked her to dance at all, especially Linhardt, who definitely didn’t strike her as the dancing sort. The music ends, and the couples on the floor bow to each other before most of them wander off.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay,” Linhardt is quick to say, offering her an easy excuse not to. “I just thought it might be… fun.”

“I’m not a very good dancer,” Marianne warns him, but she places her hand in his own in way of answer.

Linhardt’s face lights up as the music starts again, and he leads Marianne into the centre of the room. They pass Hilda on the way, and Hilda’s expression is more excited than Marianne has ever seen it- as excited as Marianne feels, though she doesn’t dare admit that at all. Carefully, she places her left hand on Linhardt’s shoulder, and his other hand falls neatly into position on her waist, his touch ever so gentle. And then they dance, taking soft steps in a small circle, as if it’s just them and no one else in the room.

“Your hair is nice,” Linhardt comments. Marianne had practically forgotten that it was different than usual, and had been wondering why Dorothea and Petra had complimented her change in appearance.

“Oh. Hilda did it for me.”  
  
As the dance continues, she finds herself closer and closer to Linhardt. This was not the respectful distance that they started out with, and she is certain that people will talk of their close proximity later in the night.

“I think you’re a wonderful dancer, Marianne,” he tells her quietly, voice so soft in her ear that she’s certain no one else could hear.

“Thank you.”

“Have you had practice before?”

“My adoptive father taught me.”  
  
“Ah, I see. I was taught by my family too. And I’m glad they did teach me, because it means that I can dance with you tonight.”

And Marianne smiles. Even though she doesn’t want to, even though it’s quite inconvenient, she finds herself quite enamoured with Linhardt. Maybe it’s the fact that he seeks her out for conversation, maybe it’s that they’re quite similar, maybe it’s that she genuinely just thinks he’s a nice person. For now, anyway, she’s happy just to hold eye contact with him as they dance, twirling around in the reception hall of Garreg Mach monastery.

When the music ends, they bow to each other, and Linhardt presses a kiss to the back of Marianne’s hand.

And Marianne smiles.

Hilda is waiting for her at the side of the room, her expression a mixture of shock and elation. She grabs Marianne by the arm and leads her into the courtyard, barely able to form a coherent sentence. Byleth is there too, and raises an eyebrow at the two girls before disappearing towards the cathedral.

“What was that all about?” Hilda eventually manages to say. 

“I…”

"I know you two sit beside each other in class, but I didn’t think you were… an item!” Hilda says, practically bouncing on the spot.

“We’re not!” Marianne vehemently denies. “I don’t know why he asked me to dance, or why he… why he…” she covers her face with her hands, too embarrassed to consider what any of this means from Linhardt’s side.

“Uh, clearly, he likes you! Why else would he kiss your hand? It’s not even like he’s someone like Lorenz, who could be after you for political reasons. Hevring territory is like, practically as far away from House Edmund as you can possibly get, and there’s no reason for an Empire noble to want to marry the adopted daughter of Margrave Edmund. So… maybe he likes you!”  
  
“That possibility is far too embarrassing to consider,” Marianne decides.

“Okay, but I saw your face! You’re totally smitten with him, Marianne, and you can’t hide it from your best friend!”

“Can we please not talk about this… it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, okay,” Hilda agrees, a little dejected, but willing to listen to her friend’s request. “But let me tell you about who else I spotted dancing together. You should have _seen_ some of the people Claude chose…” 

* * *

When Edelgard declares war on the church, it feels like the world falls apart. Byleth tells the class that they have only a month at most to prepare for the arrival of her armies, and if anyone wants to go home, now would be a good time to do so. No one does- everyone has become very attached to their class, and their professor, and the monastery that they’ve called home for almost a year.

Byleth doesn’t give out tea invitations anymore. She turns up to class, and when the final bell goes, she disappears, presumably to a war meeting. Seteth is rarely seen anymore, and even Manuela and Hanneman are hard to find. It’s up to the students themselves to prepare for the battle to come, and the inevitable war to follow if they don’t manage to defeat Edelgard.

Marianne prays in the cathedral every day, and becomes a kind ear to Prince Dimitri, who has taken up a permanent residence there. He rants about Edelgard almost constantly, but Marianne finds it very difficult to listen to what he’s really saying. She prays for him too, that he may rest, that he may get whatever justice he seeks. She never really spoke to Edelgard, and in truth, she’s not sure what she’s fighting about. Marianne prays that she’s on the right side of this war.

At the end of class one day, Linhardt spends longer than usual packing away his supplies. Every time he does this, Marianne understands that he wishes to speak to her, so she too takes longer tidying her books.  
  
“You look tired,” he comments idly.  
  
“I’ve had some trouble sleeping recently. There’s been a lot on my mind…”

“Understandable. You should take a nap.”  
  
“I promised Dimitri I would be in the cathedral again this afternoon.”  
  
“Marianne, I doubt Dimitri will miss you. He’s caught up in his own head. He’ll talk to himself if he has no one to listen. You need to care for yourself. Take time to… have some tea, or something.”  
  
“Perhaps you’re right…” Marianne glances towards Hilda as she leaves the room, grinning when she sees who Marianne is still having a conversation with. She looks back to Linhardt, and thinks that, since they’re now at war, she may not have much time left with any of her friends, and she should take opportunities like this when she can. “My room is also not a good place to sleep during the day… do you know of a good place to take a nap?”  
  
“Oh, Marianne, you’ve just asked my favourite question. Come on, I’ll show you.”

The pair leave the classroom, Linhardt babbling away about his theories about each of the places he’s purposefully taken a nap in. Outside the greenhouse, by the pond, near the gazebo, in the corner of the knight’s hall- all deemed excellent places to take a nap. But the best place is a little further away, on a hill outside the monastery overlooking the town.

Here, there is a big tree, with branches that shade the ground below it. It’s still quite cold outside, but it hasn’t been raining, and Linhardt settles himself on the ground at the base of the tree, his back against the trunk. Marianne hesitates for a moment- though she asked for Linhardt’s advice, she didn’t expect him to take a nap too. Stupid, she thinks- of course he was going to have a nap. When he beckons for her to sit beside him, she does so, making herself comfortable. 

“The whole world is about to change,” Linhardt sighs. “Edelgard has raised an army in my home country against the rest of Fódlan. And here we are, taking a nap underneath a tree.”  
  
“Have you heard from your family?” Marianne asks, though she’s a little afraid of what his answer will be.  
  
“Not directly. My father supports Edelgard, and since I have no intentions of returning home… well. I think I’ve probably lost my noble title, not that it mattered that much to me in the first place.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I never quite have been the sort to plan for the future, so it’s a little odd that I have to now. After all, I will come of age this year, but I suppose that doesn’t matter if I no longer have a title. I’ll just be like all the other common folk.”  
  
“You will have more time to do your research,” Marianne points out, in a half-hearted attempt to cheer him up.

“Yes, I suppose that is true.” Linhardt yawns, quite overdramatically, and glances sideways to Marianne. “Now, I thought we came out here to take a nap?”  
  
“Yes, we did.”  
  
Marianne closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying her best to relax. She can hear Linhardt shuffling around beside her, presumably getting comfortable. When his elbow bumps into hers, she realises he was moving closer to her. She remembers what Hilda said on the night of the ball- “_he must like you”. _Hilda is rarely wrong about these things, Marianne has come to learn.  
  
“Sorry,” Linhardt mumbles.  
  
“It’s okay.”

Marianne decides to be brave, and shuffles closer to Linhardt, and rests her head on his shoulder. For a moment, he doesn’t react, but then he exhales, and Marianne feels his head against hers, and she breathes a sigh of relief. 

The war will come, and change Fódlan forever, but for now, Marianne sleeps.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dearest Hilda,_

_I miss our days at the academy. It seems like so long ago, despite the fact that it’s been merely one year. I miss our friends, and I especially miss seeing you. Were it not so dangerous, I would travel down to see you, but even though we’re far away from the war, I do worry that perhaps the infighting of the Alliance will spread to my adoptive father’s territory._

_How goes defending Fódlan’s Throat? I remember in your last letter you said you were rarely on the front lines, but have you heard anything? I’m sure your brother is busy. It’s been quiet here- Margrave Edmund does not tell me anything of what happens at the roundtable conferences, or anything about the war. It’s so unlike the academy, where the professor was so open about what was going on. Lorenz sends me letters too, and he is very helpful in informing me about matters of the war. Sometimes I wish I could go to the church and help them. I don’t feel useful here._

_I’m sorry that I ramble on so much in these letters- I have no one to talk to at home. I don’t know where most of our friends from the academy are, so you and Lorenz are the only ones I really talk to. I wish I could check up on those in the Empire. I’m worried that they’ll be caught up in the war, and perhaps we’ll never hear from them again. I haven’t even heard from Lysithea- and I worry that her territory has been reabsorbed by the Empire. She seems to have something against the Empire, so I hope she’s doing okay._ _  
_

_Despite all this, I’m not doing too bad. I hope the same goes for you._

_Your friend,_

_Marianne._

* * *

  
  
_ To the lovely Marianne,_

_It is a wonder that my father lets these letters to you through. I suppose that it is because I told him they were merely to a friend from the academy that he does not question their contents. It has been two years, and yet he still hasn’t read a single one. We should all be considering ourselves lucky._

_House Riegan instigated another attack today. I am unsure whether Claude had anything to do with it, but father is sending me to Derdriu as an envoy to speak with the new leader. I am not too sure why he picked me- perhaps he simply cannot be bothered to go himself. Anyway, I am not too excited to see Claude- he will most certainly get on my nerves. Diplomatic talks are not one of the many things he excels in, in my humble opinion._

_Since I will be in the area, how about I also pay a visit to the house of Margrave Edmund? It would be lovely to see you again. Perhaps we can take tea? I have so missed the company of my classmates. While I am not fully in support of Claude, I also dislike having to be a puppet for my father. It is a shame that we cannot all be on the same side of this conflict._

_Hoping to hear from you soon,_

_Lorenz Hellman Gloucester_

* * *

_Dear Claude,_

_I understand that this letter may not reach you, and that if it does, you may not have time to reply. Do not worry if replying to me has to go to the bottom of the pile- I’m certain you’re very busy._

_Mostly, I wanted to ask you if you could tell me how the war is progressing? My adoptive father is refusing to tell me anything, and I worry that things are a lot worse than he will tell me. He even reads the letters coming in and out of the house, so I am sending this by secret envoy._

_Apologies for the inconvenience. I understand that you’re a very busy man, but it is three years into the war and I’m not sure my adoptive father would even tell me if it was over. If possible, could you send your reply with the messenger I sent specifically? I am told he lives in Derdriu, so he shouldn’t be too difficult to track down._

_Thank you,_

_Marianne von Edmund._

* * *

_  
Marianne!_

  
  
_Holst has extended an invitation to the Edmund family for you to come and stay with us! Unfortunately, things will get fairly busy here soon, so you’re only invited for a month. But I really hope you can make it- I’m super excited to see you again! It’s been way too long, and I really miss you! I can’t believe it’s been a whole four years since I’ve set my eyes on my beautiful best friend._

_If he says no, my personal invitation from before still stands- I can and will fly myself up to your house and land Anastasia (I finally came up with a name for her, by the way) on your lawn and take you hostage. I’d love to see how Margrave Edmund reacts to that! But seriously, he better let you come. If he complains, I’ll beg Holst to send another letter to convince him. I don’t know why my father isn’t sending the invitation, but I think it’s because a letter from General Holst sounds a lot more important._

_Have you heard from anyone else recently? I met up with Claude a while ago (I’ll tell you all about that when I see you!) and he told me about your letters. I’m glad to hear you’re talking to him- I know you aren’t best friends (like we are!) but he actually says you’re one of his favourite classmates. Though he’s a charmer, and probably says that about everyone, so who knows. _

_Anyway, hope to hear from you again soon! And I hope to see you soon after that!_

  
  
_Lots of love,_

_Hilda Valentine Goneril xoxo_

* * *

_Hilda,_

_We’re on our way to the monastery now. I hope this letter gets to you. I’ve managed to meet with Lysithea and Raphael- which is good, because I haven’t heard from either of them since we left the monastery._

_Hoping that all is well, and we’ll see each other soon,_

_Marianne_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for emetophobia though it's just what's mentioned in their supports!

The monastery is in the same state they left it in five years ago, but the people who have moved back into its stone walls have changed immensely. Claude has a beard now, and Ferdinand has grown his hair out. Hilda seems to be the same, which Marianne is eternally grateful for. The only one of their original class that isn’t here is Ashe, but Byleth assures everyone that he is most certainly still alive, and she’s certain they’ll find him again in the future.

Byleth is the true surprise of the reunion. Her hair too has grown out, falling to her waist, ratty and still damp. According to Claude, she woke up in a river, and he politely asks Hilda to help her get back to the way she looked before. Hilda accepts, but confides to Marianne that she would rather muck out the stables singlehandedly than touch Byleth’s hair.

Marianne throws her efforts into cleaning up the cathedral. She spends a lot of time with Mercedes and Raphael, who offered his strength to help clear the rubble of the Seiros statue that the Empire destroyed. Herself and Mercedes are on cleaning duty- there are a lot of stains on the floor of the cathedral that she would rather not think about the source of. All of this leaves her with very little time to see anyone else- no one has yet decided to resume the classes that Byleth was taking before the war.

It’s still bitterly cold outside, with frost freezing the ground solid most mornings. Despite this, Marianne takes a walk on a Tuesday evening, just a few days after they arrive at the monastery. Mercedes has insisted that she’s working too hard, and as much as Marianne hates to admit it, she’s probably right. So she hikes up to the top of the hill outside the monastery to watch the sunset over the destroyed town below.

Under the tree, on a blanket purloined from the monastery, is Linhardt, asleep. Marianne finds a smile appearing on her face- she wasn’t sure if he’d actually returned to the monastery, despite hearing he was. He never came to the cathedral, and she rarely went anywhere else. Her arrival must disturb him, as he opens his eyes, and his bewildered expression changes into that of joy as he clambers up from the ground.

“Marianne!” He greets- more enthusiastic than she’s ever heard him.

“Hello, Linhardt. I just came up here to watch the sunset. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”  
  
“Don’t apologise. It’s always lovely to see you. And especially after such a long time.”  
  
“Yes, five years is quite a while.” The five years have changed him, she thinks. He has grown his hair out too, and now wears robes befitting his status as a mage. He looks older, more mature, and despite everything, she can still feel her heart racing when she sees him, all these years later.

“You look well. Less tired than the last time I saw you- have you learned how to effectively take a nap?”  
  
“Ah, yes! I had a lot of free time to nap while I wasn’t here.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” he says. Those four words pull at Marianne’s heartstrings.

“I missed you,” she admits, before she can think about it.

“Oh. I missed you too.” He looks a little embarrassed to admit it, but then he closes the short distance between them, and pulls Marianne into his arms. She barely has time to register what he’s doing before her nose bumps into his shoulder, and she finds herself breathing in the strong scent of grass and parchment. When she manages to get her thoughts in order, she moves her arms around him, and relaxes, because there is very little about this situation that she doesn’t want.

“I wanted to write to you,” she tells him, pulling back, slightly embarrassed that she gave in so easily, “but I didn’t know where you were. I supposed you could be just about anywhere, if you truly couldn’t return to your home.”

“I tried to go home. But my father heard that I didn’t side with Edelgard back at the battle of Garreg Mach, so he told me I was disowned.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marianne mumbles.  
  
“It’s fine. I’m not like Ferdinand, who has been having an existential crisis for five years because Edelgard took his territories away from him and now he’s not a noble. I’ll cope. Besides, I stole a large amount of money from House Hevring before I left, to make a point to my father.”

“I feel that what you told me isn’t something you’re supposed to tell anyone,” Marianne says, stifling a giggle. “Though, does losing your title mean you’re no longer Linhardt von Hevring?”  
  
“Yes, I suppose. I’m just Linhardt now.”

“That makes sense. W-well, just Linhardt, I think we should go back to the monastery. It’s dark now…”

“Good idea.”

He sighs, and bends down to lift his blanket and fold it over his arm. Patiently, Marianne waits for him, and then they fall into step beside each other to walk down the hill. It’s a comfortable silence, Marianne thinks, and despite how touching her reunion was with Hilda, and Claude, and the rest of the original Golden Deer class, there’s something about spending this time with Linhardt that feels just right. Linhardt’s hand brushes the back of hers, and before she can think to react differently, her gaze snaps up to meet his.

“May I?” He asks, and she nods wordlessly in response. His fingers lace together with hers, and he gently squeezes her hand, eliciting another smile from Marianne.

* * *

There are still a lot of things that Marianne wishes to pray for. The war is the main thing that she wishes to pray for- for the salvation of those souls cut down by the Empire unjustly, for the souls cut down by their own army, for she’s truly not sure if she can justify the killing of anyone, even if they’re going against the church. She prays for Edelgard too, that the Emperor will perhaps see their side of the situation.

And selfishly, Marianne prays for herself too. Not for what she used to pray for- she has realised that in fact, there are many things to be thankful for, and she no longer feels that she wants to go to the goddess’ side. Not yet- not while she can still be useful on this planet.

She usually takes her time walking to the cathedral to pray. In truth, she can pray anywhere, but she doesn’t get disturbed in the cathedral, not usually. Tonight, as she moves towards the bridge, she’s stopped by a figure in the shadows.

“There you are, Marianne,” Linhardt says, an unusually serious look on his face. “I’d like a moment to talk.”

“Oh! Linhardt! Um, I was just on my way to pray.”

Truth be told, she’s been avoiding him. They no longer sit beside each other in class, now that the format has changed. And since the events of last month, and the true nature of her Crest being revealed to everyone, she is certain that Linhardt will have something to say on the matter. As much as she likes Linhardt, she doesn’t wish for her Crest to ruin their friendship. Part of her, that part of her that tries to bury her emotions and pretend they’re not there, imagines that he only spends time around her because of her crest.

“Hm, alright,” Linhardt muses. “Afterwards.”

“It’s already getting late though. Excuse me.”

Quickly, Marianne brushes past him and continues across the bridge. It’s brightly lit inside now, despite the late hour, because of the candles that Mercedes found buried in an old cupboard in the common room. Once sat in the pew, she clasps her hands together and bows her head, and whispers words of reverence to the Goddess.

When she’s done, and her prayers for the day are finished, Marianne lifts her head, and opens her eyes, letting them adjust to the change in light. As she gets up, she sees Linhardt standing in the aisle. The sight nearly gives her a heart attack.

“So then, you’re done?”  
  
“Were you here this entire time?”  
  
“I was sleeping,” Linhardt says, as if he was stating the obvious. “Are you ready to talk now?”  
  
“I suppose,” she says, though she would rather not hear what he has to talk about, if it’s anything like what she thinks. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“I wasn’t waiting. As I said, I was sleeping. I didn’t want to disrupt your prayers.”

“I see. So… what did you want to talk about?”

“The results of my research,” he says plainly, and Marianne swallows hard.

“Your… research?”

“I intended to look into the power of your Crest from the first moment I met you. I’ve been feeling quite happy of late, and I can conclude that it is due to your Crest.” Marianne is a little taken aback by this statement. Avoiding him has clearly not worked if he still feels happy around her, though she’s unsure how her Crest has anything to do with that.

“Are you sure?” She asks, covering her cheeks with her hands to hide how embarrassed she is at what he’s saying. “That’s…”  
  
“Or, more likely, I feel good because I’ve recently taken a bit of exercise,” he interrupts.

“Oh…”  
  
“Although, keeping you from finding out I was researching you was plenty of exercise on its own.” He laughs a little, wringing his fingers together. Clearly, he remembers that she specifically declined his invitation to study her, though she supposes he’s smart enough to find a loophole in what she said that allowed him to continue his research without ignoring what she said. “Listen, Marianne. I’ll tell you one thing for certain. Your Crest is not the source of anyone’s bad luck.”

Marianne drops her gaze to the floor. Truthfully, she doesn’t wish to talk about her Crest. Linhardt was there in the forest when they found Maurice’s remains and his sword, which Marianne so quickly pawned off to the Professor, so she didn’t have to think about it anymore. He is aware of how she feels about her Crest, and yet he still brings it up? At least he has results now, according to him, and not baseless conjecture that makes her feel like she is only her Crest, and nothing more.

“The research on your Crest is lacking, but other Crests have been studied quite a bit. I can find no proof that a Crest can influence the lives of those who come in contact with its bearer. And frankly, transmitting bad luck via touch sounds like a crazy superstition. Don’t you agree?” She looks up and sees that Linhardt’s face is displaying that soft smile that she is almost certain she is in love with.

“That may be true…”  
  
“By the way, eating the vegetables you gave me caused no ill effects. They were delicious as ever. It may have been another story if I drank your blood…” Even with the insinuation, Linhardt’s face pales. “Ugh, now I’m nauseous.” He drops to his knees, hidden from her sight by the pew, and retches. She’s not sure whether or not he actually vomits, but the sound of it makes her stomach turn regardless.

“Ugh. You’re going to make both of us sick!”  
  
“All right, all right, sorry,” he says, getting back to his feet and wiping his face. “As I said, it is my scholarly opinion that your Crest does not cause bad luck.”  
  
“Thank you for your reassurance. It does make me feel a little better,” Marianne tells him, truthfully. Though she would still rather her Crest stay under wraps, not talked about, forgotten, that can’t be the case, and Linhardt’s kind words do truly make her feel better.

“It’s probably just that you and the people around you have had some bad days. It happens,” he shrugs. “I’m going to watch over you from now on, and if either of us has bad luck… Well, I’ll look into whether it’s just chance or if it’s your Crest. In fact, I’ll dedicate my life to it.”

Marianne stops in her tracks at the implication of his words. Does he realise what he said? She studies his face intently, and sees only sincerity- no hint of malice, no jokes hidden behind carefully picked words. She swallows hard, trying to keep her face from becoming even more red.

“Your life?” She asks, slowly, carefully. “For me?”

“Especially for you, Marianne. Don’t make me spell it out…”

He takes a small step forward, and she takes a small step backward in response. Linhardt’s words mean a lot to her, but they seem like just words. Even their reunion on the hill felt more romantic than this- his hug, and holding her hand. But this is just the cathedral, at night, and he probably just threw up his dinner. At the same time, she would very much like to kiss him right now, but the cathedral isn’t perhaps the best place for that. And so, Marianne does the only thing she can think of.

“Thank you,” she says. “Goodnight, Linhardt.”

Marianne is not the sort of person who runs. In fact, she has to dive very deep into her memory bank to recall the last time she ran. It was during a training exercise during their academy days, she supposes, and she tried so hard to keep up with the rest of the class and not embarrass herself that her breakfast promptly came back up. So when she runs from the cathedral, leaving Linhardt’s words ringing around the empty space, she finds herself in the dining room, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead.

Hilda glances up when Marianne enters, not at all quiet about opening or closing the door, the antithesis of her usual behaviour. She hurries over to where her friend sits, opposite Claude, empty dinner dishes on the table between them. Marianne curses her timing- this isn’t something she wants to discuss with Claude. So she plucks up her courage, and clears her throat in the direction of the leader of the Alliance.

“Claude, can I speak to Hilda for a moment? I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Of course. Anything for my two favourite ladies,” Claude says with a wink, getting up from his chair and allowing Marianne to slip in opposite Hilda.

“Don’t let the professor hear you saying that,” Hilda teases, to which Claude merely rolls his eyes.

“I think she’s probably otherwise occupied at this time of night,” he laughs. “See you later, Hilda.”  
  
“We’ll see about that, Mr Leader Man!” Hilda calls after him, and Marianne can just about hear him laugh again as his disappears from view. “What did you want to talk about, Marianne?”  
  
“This is a little embarrassing to admit,” Marianne begins, tying her fingers in knots. “Well… I was just in the cathedral, praying, and Linhardt turned up when I was done.”  
  
“Oh?” Hilda says, her eyes lighting up at this modicum of gossip. Marianne refrained from telling Hilda about her love life, if it could be described as such. Not because she didn’t trust her best friend, but it was embarrassing, and on the whole, she didn’t want to think about it. But this was different- this was the exact sort of thing friends were for- and Marianne remembers all the times Hilda told her the details of romantic encounters she didn’t really need to know.

“I think that Linhardt just proposed to me.”  
  
“He did what?!” Hilda exclaims, a lot louder than Marianne wishes.

“Not so loud!”

“Oh, sorry! But like… what do you mean you think?”

“Well, he didn’t say “will you marry me?” and he didn’t have a ring or anything… But he said he would dedicate his life to me.”  
  
“Oh, goddess, that boy has it bad! Talk about coming on strong!”

“Hilda, what do I do?” Marianne says, holding her head in her hands.

“Well, there is a number of things you can do. What did you say? I need context before I can offer some expert advice.”  
  
“I said thank you,” she mumbles into her palms. “I said thank you, and then I ran all the way here.”

“Okay. Well, I think for a start, you have to find him, and either tell him you’re in love with him and agree to his proposal, or you politely reject him.”

“That really doesn’t help me, Hilda… I never expected anyone to say something like that to me ever.”  
  
“Well, now someone has, and you have to deal with it! And I know that sounds harsh, but… Marianne, someone was bound to fall in love with you.” Carefully, Hilda peels Marianne’s hands away from her face, and holds them within her own. “I know you’re shy and insecure, but you are so beautiful, inside and out, and you are the kindest person I know by miles.”

“I think for now, I’m not going to do anything. I’m just going to pretend that didn’t happen, and we’re going to continue on as friends.”

“Well, that’s your decision,” Hilda says, letting Marianne have her hands back. “Though… well, I thought I was just teasing you when I said you could be a couple all those years ago! He definitely was flirting with you, but to be so open…”

“I was surprised too,” Marianne admits. “He… well.” She glances over her shoulder, and sees no one she knows in the Dining Hall except Ignatz at the other end. “He held my hand a few months ago. And hugged me. Aside from that, we’ve barely had any…”  
  
“Romance?”  
  
“Yes, I suppose.”

“Linhardt is nice, at least. It could be worse! You could have had a marriage invitation from someone like that man that proposed to Ingrid and then tried to kidnap her.”  
  
“Thank you for talking this through with me, Hilda. I really didn’t know who else to go to.”  
  
“Oh Marianne, I am always willing to lend you my ear.”

Marianne is certain that Hilda has other arrangements this evening, so she bids her friend goodnight, and heads back to the dormitory alone. Once in her room, she changes into her nightclothes and gets into bed. There is no way she’ll sleep tonight, not anytime soon at least. She is almost certain that she loves Linhardt, and she is almost certain that Linhardt loves her, so why is it so difficult just to say yes to him?

* * *

When the war is over, it feels like a weight lifts from Marianne’s shoulders. No longer does she spend every day in fear of her life- she can sleep at night in the knowledge that she can get eight hours and not wake up in the middle of the night because they’re being attacked. No longer does she half to worry about not being able to save her classmates on the battlefield, because they’re all here, safe and alive.

Slowly, Garreg Mach empties. The former students return to their old homes, and Marianne bids a teary goodbye to Hilda, who decided to follow Claude back to Almyra. Soon, Marianne too leaves the monastery. Byleth and Seteth see her off, some of the only people remaining, so they can begin the restoration of Fódlan. She takes a horse, and rides off, back towards her home.

Margrave Edmund is there to greet her, and she is surprised at the amount of affection she receives from her adoptive father. She can’t remember if he ever hugged her before, but the homecoming she receives is warm, and in truth, she’s rather thankful that her adoptive father has come to see that she has indeed grown up in the last year she’s been away.

Marianne is a little nervous to ask, but she wishes to become more prevalent in the political affairs of the new Fódlan. Her time at the monastery showed her that there was more to politics than angry old men at the round table conference- Hilda’s brother was a prime example of that, as was Claude himself. And when she asks Margrave Edmund is, perhaps, she would be able to become his successor, he responds enthusiastically, and she throws herself into a new type of studying. He never mentions his old wish to marry her off- in this new Fódlan, perhaps those things won’t matter as much.

A few months into her new endeavour, her father enters the study with a peculiar look on his face. He explains, quietly, that there is a visitor for Marianne.

“This young gentleman has been doing Crest research in the area since the war ended. A delightful man, I had the honour of speaking with him a few times before. And supposedly, he went to the Officer’s Academy with you.”

“Ah, yes,” Marianne responds. From the word ‘Crest’, she knew exactly who it was. Her heart rate spikes, truly surprised that he would follow her all the way here.

“Would you care to see him? I know you’re busy, but he came all this way, Marianne.”

“Yes. Please send him in.”

Marianne stands as Margrave Edmund leaves the room and Linhardt comes in. She can’t help the smile from forming on her lips- the time apart truly has made her heart grow fonder. His hair is down from the low ponytail she’s used too, and he looks a little damp from the rain. She gestures towards a long seat in her study, and the two sit, much further apart than either party would like.

“It’s nice to see you again,” she says quietly, avoiding his gaze. She stares at her hands instead, folded neatly in her lap.

“One would assume that you were avoiding me,” Linhardt laughs. “I’m not offended, though. I am well aware that I may have scared you off before, which was not my intention. The blame lies solely with me. But I said I would dedicate my life to you, so here I am.”

“I am grateful that you’re here,” Marianne admits. “And I wouldn’t say that… that this is all your fault. I wasn’t sure what you meant before. Well, I thought I did, at least, and then I began to overthink things, and…”  
  
“You panicked. It happens,” Linhardt shrugs. He shuffles closer to her, and lifts her hands within his own. “Listen, Marianne. Mostly, I came here to see you. I did some reading in the area, talked to some local people, and when I built up my nerve, I came here. And Marianne, I need to tell you that I love you. That is why I’ve been checking up on you for all these years. Not your Crest- though, I will admit, that was the primary reason I initially took an interest in you. But-“  
  
“You don’t have to justify your reasons to me, Linhardt.”  
  
Marianne pulls her hands away from him, and crosses the room to her desk. Within the drawer, she pulls out a soft velvet pouch. She tips the contents into her palm, and returns to her seat. She looks Linhardt in the eye, and clears her throat, and says something that’s been on her mind for the past year.

“Linhardt, will you marry me?” She holds a ring out to him, and instead of answering, Linhardt pushes her hand away, shifts even closer to her, tilts her chin up, and kisses her soundly. Marianne’s eyes flutter closed, and even then, she seeks out Linhardt’s left hand and slips her ring onto his fourth finger. When that task is done, she tangles her fingers in his hair, something she’s wanted to do since she was seventeen and just getting to know him.

He is the one to pull away first, face flushed, grinning. Carefully, Marianne removes her hands from him, returning them to her own lap. From an inside pocket of his robes, Linhardt produces his own ring, and Marianne laughs, properly, as she takes the ring from him and admires its gentle sparkle on her own hand.

“I love you,” she tells him, quietly, “and I fear I have done for quite some time.”  
  
“No more fear, Marianne. And no more bad luck either. I think that this is quite definitive proof that your Crest brings happiness, don’t you?”

She laughs again, and adjusts the way she sits so that she can rest her head on his shoulder once again. Linhardt smiles, and wraps his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer. And there they stay, in the study of Margrave Edmund’s home, talking about everything and nothing, until the Margrave comes in to invite Linhardt to stay for dinner, and finds that perhaps he’ll be staying a lot longer than that.

* * *

They wed in the summer, in the small church in a village in Edmund territory. Marianne wears a white dress that Hilda made for her, and walks down the aisle to meet Linhardt on the arm of her adoptive father. Linhardt too wears all white- a stark contrast to the dark colours she’s used to seeing him wear. He’s smiling the whole time as she approaches him, Byleth in the centre of the church, ready to officiate their ceremony.

Hilda is snivelling in the front row before Marianne even enters the room, and Claude has to comfort her. Marianne is surprised the new king of Almyra could spare the time for a ceremony such as this, but she can’t say she’s not glad to see him. The rest of the Golden Deer are here too, filling up the pews, as well as members of the Knights of Seiros she remembers from the days of the war.

When Byleth proclaims the two married, Linhardt presses the swiftest of kisses to her lips to a loud cheer from the crowd (mostly from Caspar, Marianne has to assume). And then they head back to the ballroom of Margrave Edmund’s home, all done up for the occasion, and Marianne finds herself dancing with her husband (how exciting that she can now call him that!). Hilda congratulates them by stealing her away, and the two catch up on what’s been the best part of a year since they last saw each other. Hilda tells her all about Almyra, and in return Marianne relays all the details about the rebuilding of Fódlan.

It’s not until much later, in Marianne’s bedroom, that she truly gets a moment alone with Linhardt. They lie in the darkness, aside from a candle lit on either side of the bed. They lie on top of the blankets, hand in hand, Linhardt’s thumb drawing circles on Marianne’s cheek.

“I love you, Marianne,” he says, reiterating the vows they exchanged earlier in the day.

“I love you too.”

“I most definitely made the right decision when I asked the professor to let me move seats. Imagine if I knew then what I do now, that I would be here, miles way from my home, with my wife. I don’t know how I’d react.”  
  
“This is your home,” she tells him. “Linhardt… von Edmund.”  
  
“I like the sound of that.”  
  
“Do you miss it? Living in the Empire, I mean?”  
  
“The Adrestian Empire is no more,” he reminds her gently, “and my father is dead a number of years. So… no. I feel at home here. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“I’m tired,” Marianne whispers. “How about we go to sleep?”

“Marianne, you just asked my favourite question.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> Follow me on twitter: @floccesyranch


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